


when you call my name

by iamthemagicks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 20:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamthemagicks/pseuds/iamthemagicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's so beautiful, Jody thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you call my name

He’s beautiful, Jody thinks, as she strokes the side of Sam’s face. He turns his face inward to kiss her palm. Beautiful, and sad, she notes as he ducks down to kiss her on the mouth. Unsure, timid. He tastes like whiskey and toothpaste. She pushes, and he pulls, and they stumble and dance until landing onto a couch that’s probably older than his house. Dust rises with the drop of their weight, the deep smell of must and mothballs in her nose.

His large hands wrap around her waist and squeezes, pulling her down onto his lap, holding her tight. He starts to kiss like he’s starved for it, devouring her mouth like she’s the sweetest, fragile thing in the world. She’s not old enough to be his mother, but she feels like she should be. She bore and buried a son, he/ never had a mother.

Sam groans, impatient, and she bites at his bottom lip. It’s a little middle school, kissing and rubbing against each other on this crappy couch. She runs her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and the back of his neck.

“I need you,” he quietly mumbles, like a secret. She leans back and stares at him. His eyes are glossed over, shined with the good stuff, mouth pink and open. He circles the small of his back.

She traces his bottom lip with her thumb and gives him a soft kiss.

Like a ballet, they alternate. Her shirt first, then his. He makes the move to kiss at her breasts, to mouth along the lace of her bra, lick at the warm space at the center of her throat. Then her jeans and underwear and momentarily she wishes she had worn something a little more alluring. Something skimpy and lacy to match her bra. But he seems appreciative as he drags the material past her legs.

He takes the time to kiss along her stomach, under her naval, along the c-section scar that she wishes would just fade away. His mouth at the point of a pentagram on her hip.

She only has the patience to get his jeans and boxers pushed down to his knees before straddling him again.

“You sure about this?” He asks, holding her hips.

“Backing out on me?” she chuckles. “You already got my pants off.”

He smiles back, but sad at the same time. His whole past is written on his face, down his neck and etched into his chest and bones. A scar from a homemade stitching here, a long purple scratch along his chest. His stubble burns against her cheek, his calloused fingers run over her waist, dipping into her, warm and wet. “Oh, god,” she groans.

He tells her that she’s beautiful, that she’s wonderful and so fucking hot and how much he wants her as he brings her down his lap, sliding his cock right inside her.

Another groan and gasp; it’s been a while. A long while. She can’t quite remember. But Sam feels good, so fucking good. He groans took, grabbing her hips, thursting up to her, meeting her speed and rhythm. “Jody,” he says, his voice deep and thick, like molasses, sweet and wanting. “Jody, Jody.” He presses his forehead to her collar bone and she tugs at his hair. His mouth is wine that she just wants to drink and drink until she gets so drunk she blacks out. 

Sloppily, he rolls his thumb over her clit and she bucks faster and swears, begging him to keep going. She keeps moving while she orgasms, it moving over her body like a wave, from her face down to her toes. “Jesus, Sam. Fuck.”

He chuckles thoug his eyes are still sad. Even as he’s touching her, worshiping her with his mouth, his hands (firmly grabbing her ass), he still looks sad.

“Hey,” she says, touching his face again. “Hey.”

He kisses her hand again.

In this moment, this very moment, Jody loves him. She wants to shelter him, hold him inside of her forever. She loves him like her husband, like she loves Bobby Singer.

She lets Sam come inside of her and he holds her so tight that it knocks the breath right out of her. They don’t say anything else. He keeps a hold of her like he’s never going to let her go, and she’s just fine with that.


End file.
